There's Always a First
by Elivra26
Summary: It's Nessie's first birthday! How will the Cullens cope with this momentous occasion? Different POV's in each chapter... Rated T for suggestive adult themes. Please review. ON HIATUS.
1. Edward: PS3

**Hey there, happy readers! This fic, _again_, was pretty much a sudden brainwave while I was writing my other fic, _Triumph of Love_. Just an after-effect of reading several funny one-shots here in ffdom, I suppose. Anyway, this is my view of how life possibly went on in Forks after BD.**

**This story actually consists of several little one-shots, each from a different Cullen's point of view(and possibly Jacob, if I can), culminating with Renesmee's first birthday in her own point of view. Note that any of these scenes could actually happen _any_ time in the eternity of the Cullens' existence; however, Nessie's birthday serves to be a connecting back story to each POV, before being the main subject in the final chapter.**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series. If I did, I'd have chucked Bella and kept Edward for myself. *sigh***_

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><p><strong>There's Always a First<strong>

_**Edward**_

It is happening. A year has almost passed sooner than I thought was possible and my daughter is turning one. Even now, I find myself rejoicing over the term '_daughter_'. I still cannot believe that I am a father, of a girl like my Renesmee- the mother of whom is a person like Bella. Every moment I feel blessed, and every moment I spend with them erases a memory of my pointless first nine decades of existence.

I am sitting on the couch in the living room with Emmett. Jasper is lounging on a chair at the back wall, watching the rain through the transparent barrier. I hear a paper rustle as Esme goes over the blueprints of the newest home she will be restoring upstairs in her study. Carlisle is at work, Alice and Rose are out shopping, and Bella and Jacob have taken Nessie to visit Charlie Swan. I frown momentarily at Charlie's mention in my head- we are leaving Forks soon after Renesmee's birthday, and Bella is certainly not happy about it, when it comes to saying goodbyes to her father.

"Aw, come on," Emmett whines, cutting through my mental worries. "It isn't _that_ bad."

I turn my mind immediately to reading Emmett's- which he thought I was doing all this time. My frown deepens at what I see there.

"_No_, Emmett. You are _not_ making my daughter a mindless gamer or whatever it is those freaks are called. Besides, you just want it for yourself."

Emmett scowls. "Nessie isn't and cannot be a mindless freak, Edward. Come on, man! A PS3! Do you even know what that means?"

"She is going to turn a year old!"-I hiss, losing my temper easily. "_One_!"

"God, Edward. She's physically six."

"So you want a six-year old to play mindless violent games?"-I snap.

"They are not mindless! They involve a great deal of strategy and planning, not to mention super fast defences-"

I hiss again, cutting through his speech.

"Boys!"-Esme's voice floats down. "Honestly! Jasper- help me here. I'm working."

Jasper chuckles from his corner. "Sorry, mum. 'Twas too entertaining."

Both Emmett and I whip around to face Jasper. I glare at him with a _don't-you-dare_ look, while Emmett looks at him beseechingly.

"Sorry, bros. Not interfering. Only using my special tranquilizing skills, if need be."-Jasper says quickly. In his head, he thinks, _Relax, Edward. He is not getting her a PS3. Alice told me._

My eyebrows furrow in suspicion, my meaning clear- _what is he getting her then?_

A playful smile curves his lips. _Uh-uh. Not telling. You'll know it when you see it_.

I roll my eyes, frustrated. Jasper really has learned to control his thoughts from me.

Emmett, meanwhile, has turned back to face the TV, watching the re-run of a match sullenly. I stand up, convinced that I have won this battle, and make my way to the piano. I have to work on my gift to Nessie, and I have to use all the time away from her to do that.

As I begin to play aimlessly, trying to find a tune that will sound just right, Emmett speaks up again.

"What are _you_ getting her, anyway?"-he grunts at Jasper, who has just picked up a newspaper.

Jasper flings the newspaper down and runs a hand through his long golden hair. "I don't know," he admits.

Emmett mutes the match and turns around to face Jasper again, bad humour already forgotten.

"What if you and I get her something together?"-he asks him eagerly. Jasper sighs as I tell Emmett stonily, my eyes fixed on the keys, "You know we decided to get a present each for her. No clubbing in."

Jasper gets up and lounges over to the couch, where he settles next to Emmett, who chuckles- "Man, that kid is going to turn out to be a major spoilt brat."

My eyes narrow, but I continue playing, very well used to Emmett's irritating demeanour. Besides, I know he bears no ill will- as is confirmed by his next statement.

"Not that I'm doing anything to help the matter. Little tyke's so irresistible," he chortles affectionately. Jasper chuckles softly with him, and I feel my mood change immediately. A smile lifts the corner of my lips and I feel immense joy in my stone cold heart- the way I always feel when I remember my daughter. _My_ daughter.

"Let me guess- _you're_ writing a song for her," Emmett sneers at me after a moment.

I continue playing, unperturbed, "Scintillating, Watson."

"Jeez, Ed, how predictable. We don't even need an Alice for you."-he continues, still teasing, wanting to provoke me into a wrestling match, as I can tell from his head.

"I'm not going to wrestle now, Emmett. I need to finish this before they return."-I tell him point-blank, to save him the trouble of finding ways to provoke me.

Emmett sighs loudly, dramatically. Then his thoughts change in a new direction and he shouts, "Mum, what're you getting her?" Jasper winces next to him as the shout echoes clearly all over the house.

I hear Esme sigh softly and I stifle a smile. "For heaven's sake, Emmett, I'm not deaf," she murmurs, as I hear her turn a page. "Don't shout in that ungodly manner." In her head, I hear her simultaneously adding up prices and calculating the spatial measurements for our house in South America- her newest project.

"Well?"-Emmett continues in a slightly softer tone.

"No, Emmett, you _cannot_ share it with me. Get her something yourself," Esme says primly.

Jasper and I burst out laughing, while Emmett scowls. He should know better that- well, _we_ know better.

"I'll ask Rose, then" Emmett says sullenly.

"Good luck with that," I chortle, running my fingers over the keys again.

Swearing, Emmett falls back onto the couch. There is a brief silence, save for my experimental piano playing. All is calm on the outside, but atleast in Emmett's case, the cogs in his head are working overtime.

For several moments I hear and see him thinking longingly of the stupid games console, his thoughts wrapping themselves around it wistfully. Then he begins to think in earnest about the gift.

_What else can I get her? God, Edward's so freaking irritating at times. A PS3 would've been perfect… focus. Hmm. What does she like? What DOES she like? Playing, I guess… which implies PS3 again. Damn. Wish I hadn't broken the first one… Great. What else? She likes funny stuff, I guess, laughs her head off most of the time…_

A disturbingly clear image of the cover of "_The Vampire Joke-Book by Count Trans L. Vania_" looms into focus in Emmett's head.

Oh, dear God.

"Again, Emmett- she is a year old."-I drawl, irked.

I know Emmett is grinning at me with one of his usual cheeky grins, because he thinks to me- _It's either that or Anne Rice. Ooh, wait, no. A classic copy of _Nosferatu_… or what was that one with Leslie Neilson in it? Ah- _Dead and Loving It! _Hmm. There's always _Buffy…

There is a resounding crash of discordant notes as I slam my palms onto the keys.

"Emmett!"-I hiss.

"Emmett, stop pestering your brother," Esme says at the same time through gritted teeth- she has messed up a particular set of measurements in her head.

Emmett gets to his feet with a frustrated groan. "Jeez, fine. Jazz. You and me. Match. Now."

"Take it outside," Esme's voice echoes from upstairs immediately.

Jasper sighs and sinks even deeper into the couch, "C'mon, Emmett. Not right now."

"Get up, you lazy bag of Confederate bones," Emmett grumbles darkly, kicking Jasper in the shins with enough force to make the couch shudder.

Jasper scowls and punches Emmett on his hip with a resounding _Crack!_ before the kick is even finished.

"Outside!"-Esme nearly screeches.

I chuckle- rather in bad taste, but I can't help it- and Emmett's sullen thoughts are immediately directed to me. "And you! Don't think you've got off easy. I'd watch your back if I were you." He lets out a fake evil laugh and runs outside, a step ahead of Jasper, who now is determinedly planning every step of the wrestling match in his head.

I sigh, knowing that Emmett would keep his word. "Oy vey," -I murmur darkly as I hear my brother's footsteps on the front lawn outside. Emmett chuckles once before disappearing from my hearing range.


	2. Bella: Messy Nessie

**Okay, second chapter's up already to give you sort of an idea as to what to expect. I'd also like to add that each POV is of varying lengths, completely dependent on the situation being described... Please forgive me if I don't seem to have done justice to some characters- if it's short, it's because the scene is.**

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><p><em><strong>Bella<strong>_

"Well, what do you think?"- Alice demands, holding up a powder blue ruffled dress in one hand and a sequined white one in the other.

"Um, I'm not sure", I say hesitatingly from her bed. "Honestly, Alice, it's just a family party, should you really be so dressed up-"

"No!"-Alice cuts in ecstatically. Her eyes are focused on the wall behind me, and I see a very familiar look on her face. This could only mean…

"I have just seen the most _fabulous_ dress ever!"-she squeals and my worst fears are realised.

"We _have_ to go shopping!"

"_No_."- I say decisively. "I told you last time, I'm not going shopping with you again for six more months."

"When was that? I don't remember," Alice says, blinking her long-lashed eyes innocently.

"Last Saturday," I say shortly.

Jasper chuckles from behind his book. Alice whips around to glare at him. "Anything the problem, _my love_?"-she demands icily.

Jasper looks up from his book sheepishly. "No, no, not at all, dearest." I bite my lip to prevent the mirth from escaping my mouth. It's so uncanny to see Jasper, with all his frightening macho battle-scars, behave like a hen-pecked husband with this tiny slip of an elfin girl.

Jasper senses my tickled mood, however, and adds in smoothly, "But I'm sure Bella's secretly very excited to go shopping with you for _days_."

My mouth drops open with dismay. Jasper flashes a wicked smile at me and mouths "_Gotcha'!_" behind Alice, who has turned back to me, already forgetting her bad humour.

"Yes! Let's go right now!"

"Alice!"-I gasp, alarmed at her very determined look. "I can't; Nessie's coming back any time now."

"Oh, come on, Bella, _pleeease_."

I shake my head. "Are you going to win this one?"

Alice considers and says tentatively, "Yes?"

"Ha!"-I say happily. "I'm not going. Take Rosalie with you."

"I can't. She's… busy." Alice wrinkles her nose.

I laugh. "Emmett?"

"Of course."

"What about Esme, then?"-I ask, sitting up and crossing my legs.

Before she can answer, Esme's voice sounds clearly from her study on the same floor. "_No_. Alice Brandon Cullen, if you value your life, you will stay away from me today!"-Esme says, her voice edged with some highly charged emotion.

"An order's been misplaced," Alice confides in me in a low whisper. "It's driving her nuts."

"Yeah," Jasper whispers solemnly from his chair in the farthest corner of the room. "She even forgot to say Alice Brandon Cullen _Whitlock-Hale_."

"Jasper Hale!"- Esme's voice sounds suddenly again.

"Yes, ma'am!"-Jasper says alertly.

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

Over our peals of amused laughter, he whispers sombrely, "See? Did it again. _Whitlock_-Hale."

I hear the tinkle of breaking glass from Esme's study and thrust my fist into my mouth to stop myself from laughing even more. I don't really want to cause Esme any more distress, but it's so damned funny…

The front door downstairs opens and shuts with a bang. "Momma, I'm home!"-a clear voice echoes through the house, ringing in its happiness.

I am downstairs before she even finishes, and scoop my daughter up into my arms, hugging her tightly.

My daughter hugs me back just as tightly, relaying everything she did during the day through touch. I watch a super-fast vision of her racing with Jacob, playing with the rest of the wolf pack, pulling out Seth's hair by the roots in the process, and making mud-pies by the river bank before returning home. Then I notice the front of her pink dress covered with mud.

"Renesmee," I half-scold her. "Look how dirty you've become."

"But it was fun," she stresses in her high, melodious voice, and replays the scenes of her laughing at the riverbank, her hands buried in mud.

"It's still dirty," I insist. "And what did you do to Seth?"

She lowers her eyes, abashed. "That was by mistake." Her lower lip curls into a pout. "I apologised."

"Aw come on, Bells," says the tall muscular man behind her, who was watching all this with silent contentment. "No harm done. He badly needed a haircut anyway."

Renesmee giggles.

I narrow my eyes at Jacob. "Will you please stop familiarising my daughter to violence?"- I hiss.

Jacob rolls his eyes. "Jeez, relax, Bella. I'm just sayin'. His hair's probably grown back by now."

"Really?"-Renesmee asks, turning to him, her arms still curved around my neck tightly.

"Really," Jacob grins.

Renesmee involuntarily shows me an imaginary vision of Seth, where his hair is sprouting from his head like super-fast grass and making him look like a very filthy male version of Rapunzel. Both Renesmee and I giggle.

Then the vision in my head changes quickly to one of my father, Chief Charlie Swan. I frown slightly, trying to push away the scary unhappy thoughts that have been infringing on my mind ever since we had decided to move to South America. Though I cringe at the thought of a drawn out goodbye, I'm not ready to do it yet, wanting to keep it till the last minute.

"We just went to Grandpa Charlie's yesterday, Nessie," I tell her. She pouts adorably. "I miss him."

Jacob speaks immediately, "Aw, Ness, we'll go tomorrow again, if you like." Renesmee's pouts always reduce Jacob into an unthinking slave.

She already misses him after a day. What will happen when we move away forever? I sigh softly, not wanting to alert my daughter to the distress in my mind.

"Yes, Renesmee," I tell her reluctantly. "You can go with Jake tomorrow."

"Yay!"-Renesmee giggles, clapping her hands, and I feel my mood lift in spite of myself.

Jacob relaxes his muscles, and says lightly, "Well, I'd best be going." He glances at Renesmee stealthily and announces, "Got important stuff to do."

Renesmee giggles again. "Is it stuff for my birthday?"-she demands.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says solemnly, and then, with a very obvious wink and a happy wave of his hand, he runs away, the front door opening and closing in a flash.

Renesmee turns to me immediately, and shows me a vision again. This time, it's Edward. My stomach twists as I see his familiar beautiful face, and my favourite crooked smile brings a happy smile to my face involuntarily.

"I don't know where he is," I tell her, suddenly finding those words very strange, very _wrong_ on my lips. I should always know where he is- not in any sense of possessiveness(which I have, too), but as a sense of knowing where my soul-mate, my other half is all the time.

"Right here," his voice whispers into our ears and I feel his arms snaking around us, enveloping us in a warm hug. All the petty doubts and worries are washed from my head immediately, and I hug him back fervently, inhaling his scent from his chest and never wanting to let go.

"Daddy!"- Renesmee squeals, rips her arms away from my neck and throws them around Edward's instead.

"How's my baby girl?"-he murmurs, a beatific smile on his face.

"Fine," Renesmee says perfunctorily, just as I say "Fine" too, an innocent smile on my face.

He turns his smouldering golden gaze at me. He leans in to my face level, and chuckles, "You, my dear, are no _baby_ girl." He kisses me lightly on my forehead, each cheek, and finally my lips between each word-"You are a very, very, lovely woman." I stop breathing immediately as his lips linger over mine, nearly forgetting that our little innocent daughter is squashed in between us.

"Daddy!"-Renesmee exclaims petulantly. We break apart abruptly. Edward forces a laugh, and I try not to look into his eyes and see the very same hunger that is gnawing at my insides reflected there.

So I pull away from him, keeping only my hand clasped tightly in his while he carries Renesmee in the other. He looks at me curiously.

I laugh at the obvious longing look in his eyes. "Before we scar our daughter for all eternity," I gesture at Renesmee, who looks badly put out at being ignored, "let's go sit down and listen to her account of a very messy day."

"It wasn't _very_ messy," Renesmee argues as Edward laughs in acquiescence and we set off for the couch together.

"You're right," I tell her. "It was _incredibly_ messy."

Edward has obviously seen the event in her mind already, because he agrees, "_Stupendously_ messy."

"Messy Nessie," I tease her as we plop onto the couch.

Renesmee's nostrils flare and her eyes narrow, her lips are set into a determined pout. "Am not," she mumbles sulkily.

We both burst into laughter and I hear amused chuckles from the rest of the house as well.

"Clever, Bella," Emmett comments from somewhere.

"Thank you, Emmett," I say proudly.

Renesmee only sulks more.

We eventually manage to cheer her up, though in the future, the phrase "Messy Nessie" will never fail to make my daughter run to the bathtub.


	3. Carlisle: Jumble Italiano

**'Kay- like I said last time, this one's pretty short... But this scene happens to be one of my favourites! Please, please do review, I'd really like to know how this has come across to all you readers! Huge thanks to all those who seem to favour this humble fic of mine...**

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><p><em><strong>Carlisle<strong>_

"Job well done, Dr. Cullen," the tall, dignified dark-skinned man compliments me. "You'll be sorely missed in Forks."

I smile, too, in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Thank you, Dr. Sheridan. I think Forks is in able hands as it is," I say graciously, peeling off the blood-stained white gloves and tossing them into the disposal bin.

Dr, Sheridan nods good-humouredly and takes leave. I direct my steps from the ER to my office, finally finding the time to do what I've been meaning to all day.

I settle myself into my comfortable chair, swivel around to face the window behind my desk, and speed-dial one from my cell phone.

She answers before the first ring is through. "Carlisle," she sighs happily.

"Hello, dearest," I smile, feeling the warmth in turn at the sound of her voice.

"It's been a hell of a day," she sighs. I can almost see her massaging her brow.

"Tell me everything," I say soothingly.

"The tiles, Carlisle, the Italian porcelain tiles! Vintage and cost a fortune! And those brainless nitwits at the supplier's have shipped them to God knows where, and now I can't find them!" The situation is quite comical, but the anguish in her voice is genuine, and I'd be a fool if I laughed at her now in her moment of trivial distress.

"What do you mean you can't find them?" -I ask her gently, knowing that she has to get it all out of her system.

"That's just it!"- she snaps exasperatedly. "_I don't know where_. I asked them how the hell they could screw up a simple address to bloody 'Forks' and all they can do is mumble inconsequentially in Italian." I smile, trying to imagine Esme's furious face at the moment. Esme rarely swears, except when she's in a rare mood, but it's always entertaining to watch her become a positive firebrand. Entertaining for _me_, since Esme never gets mad at me, and it is usually our not-so-innocent children who are at the receiving end of her admonitions.

"And it's not like my Italian is bad," she continues, a hint of hurt escaping her tone, "since you taught me well enough, but those bloody thankless fools at the supplier's just _have_ to stress on the fact that I'm a crude American and so _have_ to speak in unintelligible dialects!"

I chuckle gently. "Ah, come on, Esme. You know there's nothing crude about you. And I'm sure they do that on purpose, knowing they can't stand a chance against your wonderful debating skills."

"Aren't you the sweetest?"- she comments wryly, and I laugh outright.

"Let it go, darling," I tell her, finding it safe enough to tell her so. "It isn't the end of the world."

She sighs. "No, I suppose not," she admits. "But it cost a fortune," she repeats wistfully.

"Esme, you know money is not an issue-" I start gently, but Esme cuts in decisively, "And it should be! Sure, we make enough money to end world poverty, but that doesn't mean we can spend indiscriminately!" I wince slightly, knowing that Esme is very firm upon this subject, and in her present mood, she is positively passionate. "Absolutely no regard for money- I've lost track of the number of times I've told the kids off about this. Honestly, I think Bella's the best thing that's happened to this family in a long time. Sometimes I think she's the only sensible one in the entire household!"

I quickly direct the conversation into a new avenue. "Of course Bella's the best thing that's happened to us in a while. Hadn't we agreed on that two years ago?"

As my ruse works, I almost hear the smile in her voice. "Yes we did. Edward is a lucky young man indeed."

"Nothing he doesn't deserve," I say quickly. We've had this conversation hundreds of times, but it never fails to bring us a sense of happiness and contentment at the fact that our first son is happy as well.

"Speaking of Edward and Bella," I say after the usual pause, "how's our little angel?"

"Thriving," Esme laughs. "She's romped about quite a bit with the wolves today." Quickly, she tells me the 'Messy Nessie' incident.

I laugh as is required. "And are you done searching for- you know?"-I ask delicately, hoping the words wouldn't fall on the wrong ears.

Esme laughs again. "None of the three are here, Carlisle, they've already returned to the cottage. Do you think I'd swear with Nessie in the house?"

"Ah, of course not. So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Ye-es," Esme mumbles uncertainly. "It'll be an uphill task, but of course, anything works if it's for my granddaughter."

"Of course," I smile.

"For my part, I'm just glad I don't have to order anything over the internet this time," she continues. "After this porcelain tile incident, I'm not sure I want to order _anything_ over the internet ever again."

I hear Emmett call out clearly, "What about your gardening catalogues, Esme?"

My chuckle fortunately goes unheard as Esme snaps- "Emmett Cullen, you eavesdropping monster! Mind your own business!"

I hear Rosalie call out in the tone of a weary mother-hen, "I'll handle him, Esme."

I am still chuckling when Esme returns to me.

"_Honestly_."-she fumes.

"Well, Esme, I suppose it's a good thing you won't have the porcelain tiles after all," I tell her half-humorously, half-soothingly. "You wouldn't want any sort of breakable porcelain around Emmett."

"That's true enough," she murmurs darkly.

I laugh again, while Esme sighs. "Sometimes it's just so much, Carlisle," she says softly. "Most of the time I'm just wild with happiness at home, but at times I just can't wait to step over the threshold in the mansion on Isle Esme. With you." She rarely admits something like this, for I know the family is her life. She must really be stressed today to think like this.

"Esme," I say softly, while she pauses to take a breath.

"Yes," she says, her voice sounding just a little abashed at her unthankful confidences.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm coming home soon."

She heaves a sigh of relief. "_Oh_, thank God, I was going crazy here."

I laugh again. "You don't say."


	4. Esme: Butterscotch Softie

**Note: Since Nessie lives with a vampire family, it is very believable that she hasn't heard of or tasted a lot of human foodstuffs. Granted, she spends a lot of time with the wolf pack, but it has been implied in BD that she prefers to hunt; in any case I doubt any of the wolves would freely discuss booze under little Nessie's nose.**

**Also, so forgive me for all the French- being the one foreign language that I know, I used it indiscriminately... They're not very important phrases, I think you may be able to follow the story without having to know what they mean. In any case, a glossary is at the bottom of the chapter.**

**And a polite reminder: Please do review!**

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><p><em><strong>Esme<strong>_

"So, you understand? I want the glassware airlifted to Buenos Aires in three days."-I say firmly.

"Three days, _madame_?"-the man sounds almost visibly upset.

"_Oui__, __trois __jours_," I switch to French immediately, realising that the man will be more approachable in his native language when he is so upset.

The man sounds almost relieved at the change in language, but his worry engulfs it soon. "_Mais__, __s'il __vous __plaît__, madame, __figurez-vous_…" He proceeds to try and convince me that transporting the mass of crystal ware on such short notice to such a far-off location is quite improbable.

"_C'est __incroyable_!"-he insists several times.

I wait patiently until he finishes, and then turning to the window behind me and clutching the phone in my hand even more tightly, I say briskly, "_Toutes les __choses __commandées __dans __trois __jours __ou __rien_."

The man sounds like he is on the verge of tears as he tries to reason with me again. I listen objectively, refusing to get softened by his various silly reasons. Something or the other has been happening like this since the past week. The construction of the house in the forests of the Amazon- our newest home- seems to be cursed with drawbacks. First it was the tiles, then the masons on the site became inordinately greedy, slowing down the construction work considerably- now this French Crystal supplier is fumbling excuses upon excuses for a job he should have started a week ago. My patience is stretched to its limit, and so I say coldly, "_Non, monsieur, __ce n'est __ possible __du__ tout_."

The man blusters into speech again, and I'm not so sure he hasn't started crying yet. The door of my study opens softly, and Carlisle steps into the room. I immediately flash a smile at him, much of my bad humour disappearing at his mere sight. He smiles, too, and flits to my side, and deposits a soft kiss on the top of my head as the Frenchman rambles on in the phone.

"How goes it?"-he murmurs softly, snaking his arms around my waist and holding me.

"See for yourself, " I whisper, gesturing at the phone in my hand with a grimace.

Carlisle listens intently to the man's entreaties for a few moments, and then whispers in my ear, "Cut him some slack, dearest. The poor man sounds so distressed."

"That's because I threatened to sue him- or he wouldn't even be talking to me right now," I murmur darkly. "He was content enough to let me vent my spleen at a subordinate until now."

Carlisle chuckles and presses his lips fervently on my shoulder. "My father should have met you," he says lightly. "He'd have been impressed by your mettle."

I mock-frown. "If only I was born two hundred years sooner."

Carlisle agrees solemnly. "If only."

We pause silently for a moment, both thinking of the same thing, I'm sure, neither of us listening to the Frenchman. Carlisle rarely talks about his human life- mostly for lack of clear remembrances, but also sometimes from a reluctance to remember colder, darker, more ignorant days. It is at times like this that the true antiquity of Carlisle's existence is apparent to me. It doesn't make me awkward or anything, the massive age gap, but it certainly awes me, and makes me respect and revere my husband the way no man can.

"_Madame? __Vous-êtes __là_?"-the Frenchman's tinny voice breaks through my thoughts sharply.

I replace the cell-phone at my ear with a flash while Carlisle stirs as though awakening from a trance. "_Oui__, monsieur. __Dites-moi_."- I say.

At the same time, Carlisle straightens up and stretches out his hand, gesturing towards the phone.

"I'll talk to him," he breathes silently and quickly enough for only me to hear.

I frown and hesitate. Sure, I adore my husband for all his compassion, but I'm not very much inclined towards this Frenchman at the moment.

"Sweetheart. I'll handle it, trust me," Carlisle smiles assuringly.

"Fine," I mumble, and then say in a louder and much more slower tone to the Frenchman, "_Excusez-moi__, monsieur, __mon __mari __veut __parler__ avec __vous__._"

Ignoring his fervent "_Bien __sûr__, __madame__!_", I hiss to Carlisle- "But you are _not_ bribing him!"

"Of course not," Carlisle whispers solemnly, and I hand the phone to him. "Not too exorbitantly," he adds as a wicked afterthought. For a moment I teeter between anger and amusement, but, as always, the latter wins the day. I can _never_ be mad at Carlisle, never ever. So I just shake my head with a grim chuckle and stand on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. "You mean old trickster," I murmur into his ear before standing on flat feet again. Carlisle smiles and crushes me to his side for a moment, and then lets me go, talking to the Frenchman soothingly in a tone he usually uses on nervous patients.

I watch him proudly as he paces up and down and talks eloquently, politely, but sensibly, and wonder for perhaps the millionth time how he came to be mine. Then, another distraction occurs in the form of a pretty little elfin child with bronze curls, who opens the door of my study silently, and tiptoes over to me, the smile on her face making my smile widen automatically.

"Grandma!"-she squeals and tumbles gracefully into my outstretched arms, as soon as I drop onto my knees to welcome her.

"Oh, Nessie, honey, I've missed you so," I croon gently, happily into her ear, twisting a ringlet of her copper hair in my hand. She immediately relays me an image from her mind- an image of her equally handsome father.

_Thank you, son_.- I think gratefully. Edward knew just how to lift my mood.

"_Je t'en prie, maman_," he murmurs in his musical voice from the living room couch. I laugh, realising that the entire house must have heard me browbeat the French crystal supplier, and they must have resorted to sending Renesmee to cheer me up, knowing no one could resist her.

Meanwhile, Nessie has started to play with my hair. I pull back from the embrace gently to watch her, keeping care to not to yank the hair away from her hands. She has a serious involved expression on her face- one that reminds me almost immediately of her father. She is holding a lock of my hair in her hand, and as I watch, she twists it this way and that to see it gleam in the different lights in the room: once towards the window, once to the luminous big screen of my computer, next towards the bright lamp on my desk. I watch her curiously, wondering what it is about my hair that captures her attention so, when she speaks.

"You have interesting hair, Grandma Esme," she says matter-of-factly. I sense Carlisle stop pacing, and I know he is listening to us.

"Really?"-I am startled. "How so?"

She places one warm hand gently on my cheek and shows me an image of myself- well, my face, framed by my hair. "It's the colour," she explains patiently. "It's not brown-" she shows me an image of Bella, her hair wafting in an unseen breeze- "or golden-" now an image of Rosalie, her hair falling over her shoulder gently as she supposedly crouches to my eye level and beams; immediately followed by Jasper, his hair waving freely as he runs; and then immediately Carlisle, whose hair gleams and sparkles blindingly in the sunshine. The visions stop abruptly as she leans back to gaze at my hair critically, her tiny hand still on my cheek. "It's both. Or maybe in between. It's not any colour I know. It's… different in different lights." She shows me her hand, twisting the lock of hair in it again this way and that.

Suddenly Carlisle is next to us. He leans down and whispers into his granddaughter's ear. "It's chestnut." At the same time I feel his hand smooth the hair on the top of my head and I smile.

"I've always thought it's caramel," Bella says softly from her seat in Edward's lap downstairs.

"Mahogany," Edward says.

"Brass or maybe pewter?"-Emmett puts in inconsiderately.

"Walnut brown," Rosalie says decisively.

"Sienna," Jasper says quietly from his corner by the chessboard.

"Butterscotch!"-Alice squeals.

"In that case, even brandy," Emmett adds.

"Or Scotch."-Jasper adds.

"What's Scotch?"- Nessie asks innocently.

"Emmett!"-Edward hisses.

"Hey- Jasper said Scotch!"

"What's Scotch?"- Nessie repeats, now inordinately curious.

"Jasper!"

"_He_ started it!"

"Alice said butterscotch!"- Emmett says quickly.

"What's butterscotch?"- Nessie now demands.

"The colour of my hair!"-I say loudly and firmly, putting an end to the discussion.

I hear laughter from down below, but my eldest son's ringing notes are almost visibly absent. I can nearly hear the fume pouring out of his ears. I chuckle at the thought. The next moment, my study door swings open to reveal Edward at the threshold.

"Daddy!"- Nessie squeals and leaps into his arms- it's as though they haven't seen each other for days, instead of mere minutes. I smile warmly as I stand up. "Daddy, Grandma Esme has butterscotch hair!"-she informs him unnecessarily.

There is a minute pause, then the three of us- Edward, Carlisle, and myself- burst into laughter. The others downstairs are still laughing.

"I have to say I'm not surprised," Carlisle chuckles and kisses the top of my head again. I clasp his hand which is already round my waist, and turn to him. "Are you done?"-I ask, surprised. I hear Edward withdraw discreetly and close the door behind him. Always the considerate gentleman.

Carlisle smiles. "Your glassware will be at the new Cullen residence in five days."

"_Five_ days? Five _days_!"- I gasp. "Oh, Carlisle!"

He laughs at the expression on my face, and after a moment of absolute indignation, I give in and join in with him, resting my head on his chest.

"You're an old softie, you know that?"- I murmur gently as he rocks me contentedly.

"Aye," Carlisle says softly in a sudden slip to his old English accent. "But you know what the two of us make together?"-he asks, looking down at me with twinkling eyes.

"What?"-I ask, lifting my head so that my chin still rests on his chest.

His entire frame suddenly shudders with mirth. "A butterscotch softie!"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Glossary <em>****_(a rough translation)_**

**__Oui__, __trois ____jours - __** Yes, three days

**__Mais__, __s'il __vous __plaît__, madame, __figurez-vous... - __** But, please, madam, imagine...

**__C'est __incroyable - __**It's incredible

**__Toutes les __choses __commandées __dans __trois __jours __ou __rien - __**All the items ordered in three days or nothing

**__Non, monsieur, __ce n'est __possible __du__ tout - __**No, sir, it is not at all possible

**__Madame? __Vous-êtes __là? - __**Madam? Are you there?

**__Excusez-moi__, monsieur, __mon __mari __veut __parler__ avec __vous - __**Excuse me, sir, my husband would like to speak with you

**__Bien __sûr__, __madame - __**Of course, madam

_**Je t'en prie, maman** - _You're welcome, mom**__  
><em>_**


	5. Jasper: Rag Doll Goddess

**'Kay- this one's one of my favourites! Please review and enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>Jasper<strong>_

"Ugh- Jasper!"- my wife whines petulantly, crinkling her pretty little nose. "Stop changing your decisions so much!"

"I would if I could, darling," I assure her. "You know I can't."

She sighs and entwines her fingers with mine, her little hand feeling incredibly tiny and fragile within mine.

"It doesn't help that I can't see the other end," she sniffs. "Sometimes I wish Nessie wasn't a blind spot."

I lift an eyebrow lazily. "_Sometimes_, Alice?"

She laughs that tinkling, faerie-like laugh of hers that never fails to brighten my mood. "Alright, _all_ the time. But really," her face droops into a pout again, "I really _do_ want to know if she'll like my gift."

"I'm sure she will, honey," I say soothingly, then add with a smirk, "she isn't like her mother."

"No, and thank goodness for that!"-she agrees fervently. "_What_ that woman thinks when she looks into a mirror, I just cannot figure out."

"Ah, well," I say lightly, squeezing her hand, "to each his own."

"_Her_ own, you mean chauvinist!"- she teases me.

"Of course. Forgive me, ma'am," I say, relapsing into my long-buried Southern accent, which I know she loves.

She giggles and rolls over to lie on top of me and pecks a kiss on my nose. "You play hard, Mr. Sexy-Southern-Accent."

I grin. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, missy."

She grins even more widely, her dancing eyes boring into mine. "Really?"-she drawls, when suddenly her whole body stiffens, just as I do the same.

"There they are," she murmurs and slips off me and onto her feet in the twentieth of a second; I stand up beside her an instant later. I tense into a crouch immediately, my throat taking first precedence in my mind again, when Alice touches the small of my bent back gently. "No, wait," she whispers. "They'll smell us. The wind's blowing their way."

I straighten up with a sigh, fighting a near battle in my head against the unreasonable thirst.

"We're fast enough," I say in a petulant ragged whisper, rumpling my hair sullenly.

"Yes, but you'll trip and fall," she explains calmly.

I freeze for a moment and then say, harshness still not gone from my tone- "That's impossible. I _never_ trip and fall."

"No you don't, Jasper, not unless _I_ trip you," she explains patiently.

I stare at her for a second, flabbergasted. "But- but… you can _choose_ not to trip me!"- I say incredulously.

Her mouth stretches into a wide grin again. "Nope. Sorry, my love, but the opportunity's too hard to ignore." She leans in towards me, peering up at me from beneath her long-lashed eyes. "Absolutely _irresistible_."- she purrs and presses her finger onto my chest and gently runs it down my front as she turns away, a very flirty smile on her face. The bloodlust in me is nearly gone, driven to distraction by her seductive playfulness- and is replaced by a different sort of lust altogether. The decision is made as I am executing it: I crouch fleetingly before leaping into the air and onto her, sending us both flying some twenty feet before we crash onto the mossy forest floor at the base of a tree.

I have my arms wrapped tightly around her- so tightly that our diamond-hard bodies emit a harsh scraping sound as my limbs grate against hers. Her eyes are filled with shock as she gasps, her breath blown out of her- "_Jasper_!" She tries to escape from my grasp, but I'm not having any of that. I roll around so that she is on the ground, with me crouching on top of her like some weird cage, my hands holding her arms on either side of her face; her legs locked together between my knees.

"Wh- what are you-" she half-laughs, half wheezes, but I cut her off with a hungry, passionate kiss on her mouth.

Several seconds later I pull away abruptly, and she lifts her head as though to try and catch my face with her puckered lips, hunger burning in her obsidian eyes.

I grin from the safe distance. "You're right, darlin'. Absolutely _irresistible_."

Alice groans. "Come back here, you coward," she growls. "I'm not finished."

I chuckle lightly. "Come here yourself."

She pulls back her lips over her teeth and growls menacingly. A _very_ disturbing reaction from one so doll-like. But I am well used to this Alice, and so I give her a happy, monster-worthy grimace of my own. She begins to struggle again, but I didn't survive through decades of Newborn babysitting through sheer dumb luck. As such, Alice is well and truly pinned to the ground.

She glares at me for a moment, nostrils flaring, and then demands frustratedly, "Are you _ever_ going to let me up?"

"Hmmm, let me think," I say mock-thoughtfully, and then grin, "You should know. Am I?"

She focuses her eyes for a moment on the green leafy canopy visible just above my shoulder, then sighs, "I don't think so."

"Whatever shall we do?"- I chuckle.

"Jazz- we have stuff to do."-she says, her voice deceptively calm.

I lean in again- slowly this time- and place my cheek against hers, breathing in the scent from her hair, and gently brush my nose against her jaw, drowning in her distinctive aroma. I hear her stop breathing, and her arms twitch involuntarily in my hands. "Stuff can wait," I murmur, smiling.

She moans very, very softly. "Jasp-" I cut her off a second time with a kiss- this time it is slow, deliberate, and lingering. I feel her tensed muscles relax under me, and I do the same, loosening my hold on her as we delve in deeper into the kiss…

With a sudden _Crack!_ My arms are slapped to my sides, and Alice propels herself off the forest floor, pushing me off her in the same movement; and then _she_ is holding my arms and I am the one lying on my back on the floor, her ankles locked together while her legs are straddling me and her hands pinning my arms to the side like I had hers. It is only after this blur of movement that our lips unlock, and I open my eyes to gaze in shock at her laughing triumphant ones.

"Absolutely irresistible," she repeats with a dazzling smile.

I stare at her for a minute, then burst into laughter. She joins in with me.

"_Touché_," I say lightly. "You saw it happen?"

Her grin widens. "Actually, no. It was all on the spur of the moment."

"Well-played," I compliment her generously.

"Thank you," she says, just as affably.

We pause for a moment, both gazing at each other with polite contentment.

"Er- aren't you going to let me up?"- I ask her finally.

"No," she tells me happily, and my jaw drops.

"Alice!"- I protest.

"Decide on Nessie's gift."- she orders me.

"Now?"

"_Decide_!"

"Aw, come on, Alice… right now Nessie's the last thing on my mind."- I grin, eyeing her suggestively.

"My, aren't you the charmer," Alice says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"You can't be serious," I tell her, incredulous again.

"Nessie's birthday is three days away," she says, as though that explains everything.

"And so I have to decide _here_? _Now_?"

"Yes, where you're away from Edward's nosy curiosity and burning desire to lecture you about what gifts are appropriate for Nessie… whether you like them or not!"- she snaps, giving way finally to the irritation I had sensed in her eyes quite some time ago.

I simply raise an eyebrow. "I- I've had the _honour_ of being subjected to such a session already," she adds unwillingly. I can almost see swear words gathering on the tip of her tongue, ready to be dropped at the least provocation.

I hide my laughter with some difficulty: Alice does not like being advised or commanded or ordered about by anyone against her will- especially by the fussy, overbearing, over-protective parent that Edward has become.

She guesses at my attack of mirth, however, and she says dangerously, eyes narrowing, "Oh, and you think you'll be spared the horror, do you? My dear, silly, ignoramus of a husband, Edward will jump on your back the moment you step within his hearing range. His _mental_ hearing range. It doesn't help you've offered to keep Emmett's gift a secret from him."

I sigh with half-apprehension and half-irritation against my brother.

"I know, the man pisses me off," Alice agrees to my sigh darkly.

It is at that moment that I realise that her hold has loosened on me. Without daring to think any further- knowing that to think near Alice is to act- I push her off me, just as realisation hits her with a too-late vision.

We roll on the forest floor again, crushing a treacherously exposed tree root in the process. But Alice has been forewarned by the vision and she holds on to my wrists tightly, not for the life of her letting go. At times it is her on the ground, me gaining ascendancy on her, but before I can enforce the same strong prison as I had before, she uses her momentum to push me off her, and her surprisingly strong, slight figure is pinning me down. This general sequence of events is punctuated by much playful hissing, growling and other monstrous noises on the part of both parties, and goes on for several minutes as we crash around, knocking off young trees and flattening everything else in our path.

"Ha!"-Alice squeals triumphantly, her knees on my abdomen, her hands pressing hard on my arms, her dancing black eyes inches away from mine.

I grin wickedly at her, and then do an absurd manoeuvre completely against the laws of physics- I draw my knees up, and then, with a tremendous push from the ground- which I'm sure has left a dent- I do a backflip, a somersault over my own head, lifting my wife's petite form with me and crash onto the ground a full one-eighty degrees from before, the wife's aforementioned petite form crushed under me.

"Dammit!"- she curses before her breath is whooshed away from her lungs. I laugh triumphantly and kiss her again, letting go gently to smirk, "Ha."

"Alright, truce… truce!"-she gasps as soon as she regains her breath. Then she becomes aware of her appearance. "My clothes, Jazz!"-she groans ominously. "My Guess jeans- argh!"

I understand immediately that she has really passed to serious business now- and I don't have to be an empath for that.

So I roll off her into a lazy seated position next to her, composing my face to an expression of solemn repentance. She rises in human speed, still grimacing and still detailing her _ensemble_ for the day. "Authentic stonewashed! And the _new_ Marc Jacobs shirt- I've been saving it since _ages_!"

I bite back the "Last Saturday" which rises on my tongue as a very amusing comment indeed. Alice at such a time is not to be trifled with.

"And my Fendi espadrilles, torn- _torn_!"-she adds a mortified dry sob. "I look like an impoverished beggar- no, worse- a rag doll! A _rag doll_, Jasper!"

_Rag doll_.

And at that moment, I attain enlightenment. Ignoring her still voluble cribbing, I gather her in my arms and crush her to my chest, depositing a fervent kiss on her lips. "Thank you," I say feelingly. "I've decided."

Alice sees what I have in mind, and a reluctant smile appears on her face. "It's perfect. Even Edward won't object."

I laugh and kiss her again. "You're a goddess," I tell her happily.

Her smile is still grim as she mumbles against my chest, "Not with my shirt in _this_ condition."

I unwrap my arms from around her and hold her at arm's length, surveying her critically, my eyes lingering on what's remaining of her shirt. "Personally, I think this Marc Jacobs fellow should have _sold_ the shirt in this condition," I tell her seriously, before engulfing her with my embraces again, and drowning her giggles with my kisses.

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><p><strong>So, a question to the readers... what do you think each Cullen's going to give Nessie? Go on, make your guesses... and I might even use some ideas- the prizes being loads of virtual sweetmeats and of course- credit at the end of the story. Go ahead!<strong>


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